War of the Nephilim
by MadPoppetNyne
Summary: Eight humans have been given a second chance to live– to save the humanity they once were a part of. The game they’re playing has a deadline, the Promised Day, and their moves are counted. The war between the alchemical spawns is on.
1. Prólogue

_**A/N: **__Reporting for duty! I'm back with this story and have the outlines up to chapter 9 so far and, with the two-week break in college classes starting tomorrow, I'll dedicate myself to typing up a storm. For those who've read the prologue and chapter one, I've made some minor changes, nothing that will spoil the newest chapters. Enough said- enjoy!_

* * *

Aimée bat'Sikandar held her scarf in place as the dry Ishvalan wind whipped at it with the same desolate, poverty-stricken air it had nine years before when it had tried soothing its suffering child on the brink of death. Today, the wind greeted her as a stranger, inquiring her name and business; she ignored its voice, and it left her in peace to continue looking at the place she'd once called home. She could see better days for Ishval—in the past, because the future wasn't yet concrete nor tangible, and till it was it remained a dream fueled by hope and faith.

Wrapping the red scarf over her nose to keep the sand away from her face, Aimée tilted her eyes toward the twilight sky that promised a light rain for the people of Ishvala. Even after her traumatic and painful near-death, she continued believing in Ishvala's faithfulness. He'd never abandoned her that night, just as he'd never forsaken every other Ishvalan under the sun. The rain about to fall was one proof of his provision. Their lives were another one, regardless of how they'd held on to them.

Lightning flashed in the distant sky, and she lowered her face to utter a concise prayer to her God. She asked for courage and wisdom, and for her people's welfare in the days ahead. She prayed for her new family's success. But moreover, she pleaded Ishvala for the noble and good and brave, that they might arise and fight; and when it was all over, that they would remain standing.

Only time would tell if Ishvala conceded her heartfelt requests.


	2. Advent of the Nephilim

"Zeroun promised he'd bring me something nice from Central if I behaved," stated four-year old Allen Holmes as he knelt on the rickety bus seat, pressing his forehead and palms to the window while staring at the passing country scenery with wide azure eyes. Pale golden hair strands stuck out messily upon his head, like a bird's nest made of down feathers, when only a couple hours before it'd been neatly combed by the woman sitting beside him, who now reached quietly and tugged on his rumpled white shirt.

"Rear on seat, Allen," she commanded in her gentle voice. The boy obeyed immediately, but not without pouting and frowning, deeply in thought.

"How long till we get there?" Those angelic blue eyes focused on her pleadingly. She chuckled and combed his hair with her hand.

"In another five minutes. Now, sit still before you wake up your brother. We wouldn't want to deal with a grouchy Ryan later on, no?" Allen sighed dramatically and slumped in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling about his boring twin and wanting to see Zeroun soon. Sophie chuckled good-naturedly at the boy's mumbling and sighed happily at the thought of meeting the family after so many years of being separated by distance and work.

Truth was, she couldn't blame Allen for being so overly excited to see his older brother when she herself was thrilled to see her husband.

The bus slowly came to a stop as it entered the station and the three family members stepped out into the quiet paradise that was the village of Resembool, walking contentedly to the meeting place. Ryan had awoken and slowly began to join his older brother in his happy frolicking around their mother, trying to catch the tiny yellow and white butterflies fluttering around them that summer afternoon. The trail to the house-by-the-riverside seemed shorter than it'd been in previous occasions, and Sophia attributed this to the company of the two boys by her side.

She knocked on the door and was immediately received by a face she hadn't seen since in many years, and gladly welcomed the embrace she received. This person stood back with a bright smile and set her hands upon her hips, saying enthusiastically, "Well, it's been a while, Miss Sophie! And these are the little ones Ai trained?" Allen quickly voiced his dislike of the term while Ryan stared blankly at this new character. "Come in, Miss Gigi's in the kitchen." Immediately, Allen shot forward with Ryan in tow, almost knocking over the young woman who'd welcomed them. Sophia merely laughed at the boys' eagerness.

The house was just as she remembered it: spacious and full of family warmth. It only made sense, she thought, that the property remained as unchanging as its inhabitants. Solange soon caught up with her and said, "We have been waiting for you to arrive. Everyone's here already."

Sol pushed the kitchen door open and stepped into the room, where the others looked up and greeted them. Sophie waved at them and took her seat beside Leon, who reached over and gave her a peck.

"Welcome home, Sophie," said Miss Gigi from the head of the table, giving her a warm smile which she returned. "Now that you are here, we will get down to the matter at hand, and it is absolutely important that you note what I will say and ask whatever you do not understand. Are we on the same page?" Even the little ones sat up straighter at her tone and looked at her attentively and seriously, all childish glee gone.

Miss Gigi nodded and continued, "The end is almost here, and we must make the final preparations for the Promised Day. In this sense, I have taken into consideration all the likely participants of this event and divided you as I best saw fit among them."

"You mean," piped up an olive-skinned girl in her late teens, and all eyes turned on her. "We'll protect them? Wouldn't that place us at a disadvantage because we are keeping our eyes on two things at the same time?"

Zeroun, a young man clad in a simple shirt and trousers, added, "I don't think humans should be facing homunculi. This war is exclusively between us." Miss Gigi nodded in recognition of their points.

"However," she explained, "take into account that first, it directly affects humanity and second, they will not know this is worse than they imagine until the day has come. You are all aware that Homunculus does not know fairness, lest even justice. That is why we step in, to ensure that humanity overcomes this trial and to send him back where he belongs."

"One concern, Miss Gigi." Eyes turned onto a smartly-dressed woman with sharp grey eyes. "Once we accomplish the goal for which we were created in the first place, what will happen to us?" In response, Gigi raised her palms.

"Whatever you wish to do, Em. I gave you back life, but I will not take it away. Each of you must take that choice, and none will stop the other, understood?" Everyone nodded. "Back to the subject, each of you has been assigned someone—in some cases, you will look over several humans. Listen carefully. I will only say this once, and we will part ways immediately after this is done.

"The rules are simple and must be followed to the letter. First, you will be in contact with them at all times. Second, you will and must not reveal yourself as a homunculus unless either absolutely necessary or until the Promised Day. Third, you must comply with your team leader's orders. Fourth, at all times be on guard; do not even trust your shadow."

She distributed folders down the table, each neatly labeled with their names. "The particulars of your assignment are listed in your files. Please take a moment to study them and promptly destroy them once done. Some of you have been moved into position for some time already; the rest of you will mobilize upon leaving Resembool. I've divided you into two teams: the first will be led by Leon, the second by Sophie. Any questions or concerns, refer to you team leaders first."

"Miss Gigi." She looked at the Ishvalan woman sitting near the end of the table. "My assignment... If he is a renegade, how am I to track him? If he is a warrior priest as the dossier mentions, it may be futile to try hiding my true nature."

"I know. But I have reason to believe he wouldn't spare anyone long enough to hear them out but you. I trust you'll find him and introduce yourself whenever you consider best." Aimée bowed in response and accepted her mission.

Miss Gigi returned the bow gently and returned her attention to the family of homunculi who had accepted to follow her in her mission. "Thank you. A word of advice: Leon, Zeroun, Emily: evade the Führer as much as possible; unless your protégés are in imminent danger, you will not make direct contact with any of Homunculus' creations whatsoever, clear?"

She rose to her feet and added, "I truly love all of you. I am grateful to you for your dedication and focus, even though there have been times we long for our humanity. I wish I could embrace you all after this is over, but I'm sure that will not happen. I will always be available to you in the Current, whenever you need me, and your siblings will stand by your side any moment you call out to them. The end is almost near, and before I leave this earth, I want to be certain that all those of our kind that have caused harm to humanity will be gone. It is the last thing we can give to that which we once were, our last tribute, and our only gift for the generations to come." The golden-haired woman, clearly the oldest in the room, cracked a charming motherly smile as she asked, "Well, who's in the mood for some peach cobbler and ice cream?"


	3. Always an Outsider

**_North City, North Area, Amestris; 1654._**

_An unshaven, roughened young man with tousled dark hair was led naked in the cold weather characteristic of these northern lands, a rope around its neck and hands tied behind his back. An officer in the Amestrian military blues stood on the platform and, when the young man reached his side, drew out a sheet of paper and announced in a booming voice the crimes listed against him: instigation against the State, responsible for the deaths of at least 20 Amestrian officers, destruction of state property, and resistance against the Amestrian government._

_Behind the convict, another soldier forced him to his knees as the one who'd read his crimes asked him if he had any final words. Burning black eyes set firmly on the soldier as he gave his answer in a heavily-accented Amestrian. _

_"I was born Kossacky and am proud to die Kossacky. I regret nothing."_

_A rough boot on his back shoved him to the platform floor, making his chin slam on it. A pair of soldiers forced his legs open and the other keeping a firm boot on his back. Two more soldiers approached from behind with a sharp wooden stake and positioned it between his splayed legs. The convict closed his eyes and whispered a brief prayer for strength only a moment before the stake was driven into his body._

* * *

**East City HQ, 1914**

All heads snapped up to attention at the brisk knock at the office door. The Colonel cleared his throat and called out for them to enter; the door opened to reveal Lieutenant Hawkeye, accompanied by a younger man with neatly-combed dark honey blond hair dressed in Amestris' characteristic military blues. Roy Mustang sighed mentally—if he'd been dreading this addition to the team before, he was beginning to regret it upon confirming with his eyes that, just as Hughes had mentioned, the newcomer looked the part of the perfect soldier. _Might as well get this over with,_ thought Mustang as the pair reached his desk and the newbie snapped a crisp salute, which he waved away.

"Colonel, sir," started Hawkeye. "May I introduce you to First Lieutenant Zeroun Lang, our transferee from South City. Lieutenant Lang, this is our commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang."

"Thank you, Hawkeye." The Colonel paused a moment to gauge the young man, who held his gaze levelly with a neutral expression on his face. Apparently satisfied with whatever he was looking for, Mustang leaned back on his chair and nodded. "Welcome to my team, Lieutenant Lang. I have heard good things about you and hope you live up to the expectations. If you have any questions about your duties, please refer to Lieutenant Hawkeye. I wish you best of luck in your new assignment."

The lieutenant clicked his heels together and saluted, saying, "Thank you, sir. I will work hard." Hawkeye turned away, and he followed, being introduced to Breda, Havoc, Fuery and Falman—and Black Hayate, who sniffed at his hand for a moment before rubbing its head against it, asking to be petted. With them gone, the Flame Alchemist swiveled in his seat to face the large windows behind him, his hands raised in a contemplative gesture as he reviewed his brief introduction to the newest member of his team. _Added by Grumman himself, _he thought. _What is that old fox up to? "Never look a gift horse in the mouth," he said when I questioned him the first time. I might have to give him another visit…_

Stretching lazily, Mustang rose from his seat and walked toward the door, dismissing his staff for lunch and announcing to his remaining subordinates he was headed to pay a visit to Old Grumman. He'd face Hawkeye's wrath when he returned—whenever they finished their chess game. Which, judging by the time, would be after lunch.

The men lost no time in filing behind their superior and making their way down to the cafeteria. Leaving the lunch line, they surveyed the tables for an empty seat. Havoc grinned and pointed with his chin. "Hey guys, there's a few empty spots by the noobster. Hey, Lieutenant Newbie! Save us three spots, will ya?" Breda huffed at Havoc's uncreative nickname and followed him with Fuery and Falman at his heels. The new lieutenant looked up from his tray at the approaching men and offered a civil yet friendly smile.

"Suit yourselves," he replied and motioned for them to take the available seats at the table. Once they were all seated, he added, "Let me see if I remember right: Lieutenant Havoc, Lieutenant Breda, Sergeant Fuery and Warrant Officer Falman. Did I get it?" The men nodded in response, some more enthusiastically than others, and the transferee's smile widened. "Well, I'm Zeroun Lang, pleased to meet you. Again. I do hope the 'newbie' title will fade away with time."

Havoc chuckled sheepishly and answered, "Well, yeah. I'm not real good at memorizing. Hell, I'm not even the smartest lad out there, but I've got my good points. You into girls?" At this, Breda sputtered over his juice and broke into a half-choked roaring laugh. Fuery blushed and Lang grinned impishly at the poor wording as Falman got ready to lecture Havoc on the correct phrasing when it dawned on him exactly what he had implied.

"Uh… Ah! No, no! I mean, of course I didn't mean to say that. I mean, uh, um—"

Lang waved his hand dismissively. "I got it the first time. Yes, I'm into girls; no, I'm not on the prowl. I'm happily leashed, thank you very much."

Havoc's face fell momentarily before they were surprised by a certain Lieutenant Colonel's sudden appearance, who had pushed Havoc aside and squeezed in between him and Breda to grab Lang's hand and give it an overly-enthusiastic shake. "Hello, hello!" he greeted in a sing-song voice. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, Intel Department at Central, out east for a few days; and you must be Mustang's new puppy. Pleased to meet you, pleased to meet you. Now…" Mustang's men groaned, and Lang's eyes wandered to see their horrified expressions, his face betraying his confusion.

"Not again—" moaned Havoc.

"Colonel Hughes, I don't think he wants to—" stuttered Fuery.

"The man's having lunch, for goodness' sake!" exclaimed Breda at the same time as his companions, to no avail. The evil glimmer appeared in Hughes' eyes before he dramatically flashed a photo album in the transferee's face, taking him by surprise, and his face morphed into an expression of stupid bliss.

"Behold my lovely Elysia, who's turning three!" The men's groans amplified with mumbles of annoyance. Zeroun blinked a few times and reached for the album, looking at the pictures of an adorable toddler whose only shared feature with her father were their intelligent olive green eyes. He perused the album calmly and handed it to the Lieutenant Colonel once he finished. "So, what do you think? Is she a pretty thing, or what?"

He smiled politely in return. "She's a precious girl, Colonel. She seems to be quite precocious—reminds me of a boy I met on the train here. You do well to be proud of her." At his praise, Hughes was flattered beyond relief and began mumbling nonsense about his beautiful angel Elysia, making Lang chuckle as he returned to finishing his meal.

Falman cast a look at his watch and announced lunchtime was almost over and they should return to the office. Breda looked across the table at Lang as they rose and asked if he'd go back with them; the new lieutenant shook his head, mentioning he was supposed to meet Lieutenant Hawkeye at Archives to help her classify some items. Zeroun voiced his farewell to Hughes, who continued in his fantasy world and seemed to barely notice his departure; the senior's expression changed immediately once he was out of earshot, as he focused serious olive eyes on his retreating back.

"Well, lieutenant," muttered he. "I like you, but I'm still keeping my eyes on you for a while longer. We'll see if you can be trusted."

* * *

_**North City, North Area, Amestris; 1654.**_

_Nearly half an hour in, a drizzle started falling and quickly changed into a furious, icy storm. Civilians and soldiers alike had abandoned the plaza, knowing for certain that the impaled convict wouldn't last long. Thunder rumbled as a tall man dressed in a black trench coat with a black cordobés hat on his head walked up the platform steps and stopped near the convict's earshot. He placed a large hand gently on the young man's forehead and said, "No matter what you have done, no one should die alone. You should not die alone." Tears escaped the young convict's eyes, eyes full of fear of dying and suffering._

_There was a pause as the rain continued falling before the stranger explained, in a few words, that the expansion of Amestris and the destruction of the Kossacky tribes was all part of a greater plan by a fearsome power. "Would you accept my lady's Temperance to defeat him when the time comes?" His answer came in the form of a trembling grasp of his trench coat, determination mixed with pain in the young man's dark eyes. The stranger removed his hand from his forehead and brought out a vial; opening the cork, he warned, "It will be uncomfortable," then tipped it into the dying man's mouth. The man convulsed almost immediately for nearly a minute before growing deathly still; a faint red light flashed, indicating an alchemical reaction taking place, and revealed the young man freed from the stake and completely healed._

_The stranger handed him his trench coat to cover himself, indicating his name is Leonidas George. The young man looked bewildered at his miraculous healing but managed to thank him in Amestrian. Leonidas shook his head and replied, "Temperance chose you, not I." Leonidas escorted him down the platform while adding, "We must travel to Rush Valley immediately to begin your training. Pardon me, but what is your name?"_

_The former convict, now a human-based homunculus, looked up at the dark sky and answered. "Zeroun Harbuz."_


End file.
